That moment you move at exactly the same speed and direction as the wind --
When your vector aligns with its --
The sudden disappearance of sound is alarming
(The sound of wind is created by a body’s resistance to the movement of air;
Wind itself is silent).

You might notice right away,
Might depend on how you think about things you know, or expect to be there,
Even if what you expect is simply the steady susurrus of the air answering your efforts against it.

You might know why right away;
Why of a sudden you hear everything else,
Alive and crisp and announcing itself like it's the first time it ever has:
The grass bending, your breath, a bird.

You might not. You might simply feel strangely ...
In sync,
In touch,
Centered, and clear,
With the world, for some reason, revolving around you.

But that moment, regardless of your awareness or thought,
Something inside, the instinct that tells different from known,
Panics for just a split-second and makes a decision,
Between
-- how fast can I get myself out of this moment?
And
-- how long can I keep myself in it?